


The Wishmaster

by Jenetica



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brother Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Loki is angsty, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenetica/pseuds/Jenetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after his dealings with the Chitauri, the uprising of the Dark Elves, and Frigga's death, Loki turns to granting the wishes of Midgardians to pass the time. </p><p>He never expected his own wishes to be granted, in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wishmaster

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to rant for a moment, because I am VERY MUCH supposed to be working on final papers right now, but this prompt refused to leave me alone. So GRRR and now it's done and hopefully I can get some work done.
> 
> Based loosely on [this post](http://themurderfamilybusiness.tumblr.com/post/69004001989/squigglydigg-im-not-gonna-lie-this-right-here). 
> 
> Un-beta'd.
> 
> EDIT: This story's rating has now been upped to Explicit due to future chapters.

"I don't know what to do," the boy whispered tearfully. "Mommy's medicine costs us a lot of money and I know that it's important, but I haven't eaten since yesterday and my tummy hurts. Tyler says wishes are stupid and he's eight, so I guess he would know, but I don't know what to do. I just want everything to be okay again."  
  
Thousands of lightyears and a dimension away, Loki closed his eyes in pain. With a single thought, he removed money from the account of a wealthy CEO and put it into the family's account. Another thought later, the paperwork behind the transaction was created, preventing the family from ever facing fraud. To the CEO, the few thousand dollars he just lost was but a drop; to the family that gained that money, it was the world.  
  
One last thought sent the boy to bed, yawning, as Loki shifted away from his windowsill in Asgard and went about his nightly ablutions. Today alone, he'd created three ponies and six dogs, solved two sets of marital problems, and embarrassed eighteen bullies, as well as helping that little boy he just fed. It had been a long day, but a successful one.  
  
If you'd asked Loki a century ago why he chose to help people, puny mortals in Midgard, he would have been just as flabbergasted as the next person. He was a god, a prince of Asgard, and a noble warrior. He had no need for charity. But then he'd discovered that he was no prince of Asgard, after all, and every other aspect of his personhood fell away from him with the discovery. Gone were his Asgardian morals and his gentle humor. Gone was his pride. He was Loki Laufeyson, not Odinson, and he was the heir to a corrupt and depraved throne.  
  
So he, too, became corrupt and depraved. Loki, nowadays, hated to think of those ten years he spent in agony, torn between loving his adoptive family and hating them because they weren't his family at all. He ripped everything he could to shreds, simply because he could. He could control his own destruction, whereas he never had a say in his construction.  
  
He realized his mistake about half-way through his "dealings" with the Chitauri, though his pride kept him from admitting such. No, he was Loki, born of himself, and he could not admit defeat with Thor and Odin smiling down upon him smugly. He could not be reduced to some Frost Giant convict.  
  
And yet, he was, in the end. He fought hard and, in his eyes, valiantly. He was not proud of his choices, but at least he could be proud of his determination. So, when he faced down Thor and Odin -- Odin as self-righteous as was expected, Thor as pathetically guilty as was dreaded-- he did not ask for light punishment. He did not beg for reconciliation. He stood fast in his resolve and accepted his fare with a steady grin and promise in his eyes. Best to keep Asgardians on their toes, if nothing else; no one would pity him whilst fear lay in their hearts.  
  
Everything changed with the attack of the Dark Elves. Loki saw the chance for freedom, for the end of the Asgardian Royal Family, and he grasped it. Good riddance, Thor and Odin, see you in Hel. He never expected Frigga's death. He wasn't prepared. His world collapsed on itself, _again_ , and he truly had nowhere to turn. His mother was dead. She had taught him how to use magic, she had given him everything he held dear, and she'd encouraged him to be different from Thor when all Odin did was demand he conform. She had been his mentor, his tutor, his only friend, and she was gone. Because he told that Elf to take the other staircase.  
  
It was his fault.  
  
It took him years to get over her death and years more to find a place for himself in the new Asgard. Thor no longer wanted the throne and, deep down, neither did Loki. It was tainted with bad blood. So, whilst Odin still drew breath, Loki preoccupied himself with pastimes to avoid the truth of his life: he was doomed to represent the family he hated, leading a civilization that loathed him, with none but his stupidly noble brother for support.  
  
Lesser men would have crumbled, or turned to destructive behavior. Been there, done that, in Loki's book. He was done ruining things. Frigga had never wanted him to use his magic for that, and he couldn't bring himself to disrespect her wishes. So, quietly, he respected her wishes by granting those of others. At first, it started as an absent-minded way to blow off energy after being cooped up in his rooms all day, but it slowly became something more. Night after night, he opened his ears to the people of Midgard, listening to their tiny troubles the same way women gossiped to avoid their own social distress. He did little things, fixing the broken chains on devices called "bicycles" and calming small children when they cried for hours on end. Somehow, doing these small favors made his own pain dull. He committed many misdeeds and he could never salvage them, but he could do right just as he had done wrong.  
  
Then the thanks started coming in. Some people prayed to their god, others thanked the stars; Loki was a god, and he lived somewhere amongst those stars they thanked, so he accepted them all. And how humbling they were, the soft sobs and the breathy exclamations. People were finally worshipping him, for all the right reasons, and Loki knew that somewhere Frigga was smiling down at him from Valhalla. Finally, he was doing something good. It felt miraculous.  
  
That wasn't to say his problems vanished. Indeed, Odin and Thor still treated him suspiciously, mores because he's deceived Thor into believing he was dead. He suffered through their interrogations and their daily investigations, affecting a bored and petulant persona to get them off his back. It was hard to do, considering that they made him feel bored and petulant as it was. They attempted to trace his magical signatures, sure he was plotting something evil, but Loki waylaid them easily enough. He couldn't say why, but he didn't want the Asgardians aware of his actions. The thought made him anxious. This was his release, his private time, and it was no one else's business.  
  
Over time, however, granting wishes became more than a simple hobby. He enjoyed the simple joy expressed by his wishers, and he glowed to hear them appreciate his efforts. He began researching more magic, spending hours on end in the library to discover new and inventive ways to make Midgard a little brighter for mortals. They were so tiny, with their minuscule problems and even smaller requests, yet their emotions were large enough to fill the empty caverns of Loki's heart.  
  
He still got up to mischief. Of course he did; he was the God of Lies and Mischief, and he wasn't about to lose that piece of identity after losing so much else. So he still charmed Thor's goblet to tumble over, and he still caused warriors to trip over imaginary roots during drills. And, sometimes, he would delay the alarms in Midgardian clocks so people woke up a few minutes late for work. Granting wishes didn't preclude chaos, so why give up either of them?  
  
Loki woke up the next morning and headed to the windowsill. He'd installed a bowl to collect wishes while he slept, and it was always full by the time he awoke. It used to irritate him, how many wishes were formed in the span of a few hours, but he'd quickly learned that these people weren't accountable for everyone else's hopes and dreams. He was. So every morning, he got up and stirred through the bowl of golden strands, each as bright as the sun. Even with thousands of calls to answer, Loki was done by mid-morning. At last, one golden strand lay in the bottom of the pool, gleaming against the cool stone. Loki took it into his mouth and waited for the message to fill his mind.  
  
"You're beautiful," breathed the voice, soft and masculine. "Every night I gaze up at the unfathomable darkness of space, maintained only by swirling, racing balls of gas and energy, and my problems melt away. How can I ask of you when you have already given so much? How can I ask of you when I know there is no one to hear my plea? But here I am, gazing up into your abyss and wondering if you can offer me something my world cannot. Whatever you are, out there.  
  
"I'm alone. Not in the cosmic way, or the romantic way, or anything like that. I'm surrounded by people who love me, and I know that. I am intensely fortunate. Yet I can't escape this feeling that there is someone out there I am waiting to meet, and who is waiting for me in return.  
  
"Now I sound pathetic. Maybe I should stop now and go home. Lord only knows I need the sleep. But I'm not here for myself. I'm alone, but I believe with all my heart that there is someone out there who needs your help more. There's a woman in my building who lost her husband recently. She's the kindest person I've ever met, and she can't find her husband's wedding ring. It's all she has left of his; her children forced her to sell off everything else. I don't know, I'm asking the stars to find a wedding ring. Maybe I've gone insane. But she's so lost, without him, and I can't stand seeing her like this."  
  
Loki blinked. What a peculiar wish. He traced the wish back to its source, then found the woman in question. The ring was under her bed, near the headboard, and it was nothing to shift it two feet to be in sight. Loki brushed himself off and headed to lunch, confident he'd heard the end of the strange wish.  
  
He hadn't. The words of that man jangled around in Loki's head all day, distracting him from nearly every task he started. Eventually, after reading the same paragraph twelve times, he reached out with his mind and checked on the human. It took him but a moment to find him in the vast city of London, but what he found shocked him to his core.  
  
He was looking at himself. The man had his build, his face, his hair, his _clothing_. But no, the man was smiling in a way that had eluded Loki for years.  
  
"I haven't," the man protested, laughing. "Now bugger off, I've got to go back to the set."  
  
"How is pretending to be a god?" the other man asked good-naturedly.  
  
The man's smile turned forced, and Loki recognized the pain in his eyes as something he'd seen in the mirror every day for the past ten years. "Different than I expected. See you later?"  
  
Loki watched as the man walked back into a building and into a mass of large machines. Part of the room was built to look surprisingly like the vaults of Asgard. Just what were these mortals doing?  
  
Then, stunned, Loki watched as the mortal hardened, body straightening familiarly, and began shouting at a man who looked quite a bit like Odin about betrayal. _They were acting out Loki's life_ , the god realized. He could hardly believe his eyes, yet the proof was right in front of him. The man was using words like "Frost Giant" and "Laufey" like he knew Loki's pain. Yet the emotion was wrong, the man was too angry. When they took a break, Loki entered the man's mind. Indeed, the emotions writ there were simplistic and shallow: anger at being betrayed, determination to get vengeance. Loki remembered the day he'd confronted Odin about his heritage, and he hadn't been angry. He'd been heart-broken, desperate for answers and scared of rejection. He'd been lashing out.  
  
Loki brought those thoughts into the mortal's mind, and the man gasped. "Oh, of course," he whispered. "How foolish of me. Ken!"  
  
He walked over to a man wearing some sort of contraption of his head. "I'd like to do the scene again."  
  
The man, Ken, frowned. "Tom, we got all the shots we needed." And really? The man's name was Tom? How… Midgardian.  
  
"I just… I know it's a lot to ask. You can take the time out of my paycheck. I've just had a revelation. One more go, please?"  
  
Ken sighed. "Alright. Hey! Get Anthony out of wardrobe, we're taking it again!"  
  
The crew set up and the man-- _Tom_ \-- steeled himself for the speech. This time, he delivered it perfectly, mustering up every ounce of pain and confusion that Loki had felt all those years ago. It was enough to steal the god's breath away.  
  
"And… cut!" Ken said loudly. Tom stood and sighed shakily, flicking tears from his eyes. "I see what you mean, Tom. That was brilliant. Are you happy with that one, or do you want to go again?"  
  
"I don't think I _could_ do it again," Tom joked weakly. Ken laughed loudly and turned to another man wearing a headset. Satisfied, Loki left the mortal's mind and returned to his body in Asgard.  
  
The next few days were strange. Somehow, helping the man, Tom, act out the darkest moment of Loki's life had been cathartic, for Loki felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in years. He was plagued, however, with curiosity. How did these Midgardians know this tale? And why, for Norn's sake, were they acting it out? Why was this man involved, and how did he look so much like the god he was portraying?  
  
Loki managed to stay out of the mortal's mind, distracting himself with spellwork and wishes. Until, one morning, a familiar golden strand lay on the bottom of Loki's bowl.  
  
"I don't know who you are," Tom said helplessly. "And that terrifies me. Mrs. Hanson found her ring. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps there is no great explanation, but I'd like to believe you're real. Are you a guardian angel? A star? … It doesn't matter. More importantly, are you lonely? I'd imagine you must be, to listen to the ramblings of an actor who can't get his characters straight. I finally figured him out, Loki. I'd been looking in all the wrong places, and his character was right in front of me. I wish he were real, so I could wish for his salvation, too. If anyone were in need of a good wish, it would be him. But that's besides the point. Thank you, if you are out there, for helping Mrs. Hanson. I hope there's someone out there granting your wishes."  
  
Loki drew in a rattling breath, staring into the empty bowl as if it held answers. _Are you lonely?_  
  
Of course he was, but he hadn't realized that truth until Tom had mentioned it. Norns, he was lonely. It ached in his heart, only to be relieved when he felt those traces of happiness from wishes granted. He was lonely, and he had burned every single bridge to friendship.  
  
But he had his wishers, and their happiness lessened his pain, and he was content with that. Mostly.  
  
Except he wasn't, and in the coming weeks Loki realized this with aching clarity. Fulfilling the wishes of the needy ceased to give him the gratification to which he was accustomed, not now that he knew there was more out there. He spent his free time lurking in the corners of Tom's mind, to whom he had become obsessed. While watching Tom's life, Loki could forget his own, and the reprieve was glorious. Tom had two sisters, Loki discovered, and he was very close to them. Sarah and Emma (again, plebeian names for extraordinary people) came over to Tom's living quarters-- which Loki soon discovered was called an "apartment"-- multiple times a week, and the mortal was always happy to see them.  
  
Most mornings, Tom would go for a run around London. At first, Loki was surprised by how many times the actor stopped to give autographs. Why would people demand he _sign_ something? Was the proof of his existence that important? He was just a mortal, after all. Once Loki discovered the irritation Tom tried to hide at the interruptions to his run, he carefully charmed people to avoid noticing the man if they looked to harass him. It was easy to spot those that sought his signature-- not only did Loki see them, but he also felt Tom tense with apprehension-- and easier yet to make them forget their interest. Though he seemed not to notice the change, Tom began looking forward to his runs more now that he could finish them without pause, and it pleased Loki to no end.  
  
The most interesting moments were those Tom spent at work, getting into the character of Loki. Under the god's gentle guidance, Tom played his role perfectly, and Loki felt validated to sense how much the mortal empathized with him. "I know he's the villain," Tom once said to the actor playing Thor, "but he's so misunderstood."  
  
"The best villains are," the bulky man, Chris, replied. Loki had hated him at first, sure that he would be oafish and crass like his character, but he had been wrong. Chris was thoughtful and kind, and he was good friends with Tom. The last, above all else, kept Loki from giving Chris a rather nasty infection in a tender place for merely existing.  
  
Loki only returned to his own body to eat and check on his bowl of wishes and, occasionally, to sleep. In his dreams, he walked alongside Tom instead of hiding in his mind and, as his understanding of Tom grew, so did the vividness of his dreams. Tom was kind and humble despite his apparent fame. He had power, in mortal terms, which he used it wisely. He loved reading and learning in every way possible, and he often went out of his way to expand his already impressive bank of knowledge. In Loki's dreams they discussed magical theory and debated the validity of Asgard's historical records, or plotted the greatest of pranks. Loki looked forward to sleeping almost as much as he did waking to learn more about Tom.  
  
Nothing compared, however, to those times Tom rose his voice to the stars and spoke to Loki directly. Sometimes Tom babbled about his day, others he philosophized. Sometimes, rarely, Tom would wonder about Loki, just as Loki wondered about him.  
  
"I can't believe you're real," Tom said one such night, "but I can't ignore the feeling that you are, that I'm actually speaking to someone who can understand me. I wonder what you're like. Do you have a body? I'd certainly hope so. Are you beautiful? When I imagine you, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Maybe I'm biased. But I want to get to know you, whoever you are. Can I wish that? Can I wish to meet you? Is there even a 'you' to meet? If nothing else, prove to me that I'm not going insane."  
  
Loki wasn't sure how to proceed. He wanted to grant this wish, but fear of rejection held him back. Tom clearly expected an angel, some Judeo-Christian symbol of righteousness, and Loki couldn't compare to that. And could he gather his courage up enough to meet the mortal that plagued his every thought? What if Tom rejected him?  
  
Still, a wish was a wish, and Tom asked for a symbol of confirmation. That, Loki could provide. He reached out and grasped the mortal's hand with his energy.  
  
"Oh my God," Tom whispered, staring at his hand. "I'm not imagining that, am I? You're holding my hand." Loki squeezed an affirmation. "You're real," Tom breathed. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Hello."  
  
Loki laughed and squeezed his hand again, elated. This was the contact he'd craved for months, and it was even more magnificent than he'd dared to hope it would be.  
  
"Can I ask you questions?" Tom asked. "Is that allowed?" Loki squeezed, another affirmation. "Wow. Okay. Um, one squeeze for yes, two squeezes for no?"  
  
 _Yes_.  
  
"Alright, uh… what are you? An angel?"  
  
 _No._  
  
"Well, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Do we have a word for what you are, that you know of?"  
  
 _Yes._  
  
"Right. Um, what else could you be? You're not like a demon, are you?"  
  
 _No._  
  
"Well, that's a relief," Tom laughed. "Wait… are you God?"  
  
Loki paused, unsure. He was _a_ god, but not the God Tom meant.  
  
"No reply. Did I do that badly? Sorry. Um, so are you _a_ god, then?"  
  
 _Yes._ Oh, his human was smart.  
  
This. This human. Not "his" human. That would be foolish.  
  
"You're a god? I'm talking to a god? Right now? Good Lord, that's quite a bit to take in, isn't it? I'm talking to a god. A god is talking to me. Um, d'you mind if I make a cuppa? I think I could use one."  
  
 _No._  
  
"Fantastic," Tom said, getting off his sofa to put the kettle on. "So, are you this attentive to all your subjects, or just me? No, don't answer that. I'm not sure I'd want to know either way. It's just a shock, you know? Meeting a god. Discovering that there are gods, plural, at all. Does this mean the Christian God isn't real?"  
  
 _No._  
  
"No, it doesn't mean He isn't real?"  
  
 _Yes._  
  
"Oh, well that's a relief. I'd hate to have wasted thirty years of my life believing in something that didn't even exist." Tom laughed nervously, hands jittering. "So what do you do? I'm assuming Mrs. Hanson's ring was your doing, correct?"  
  
 _Yes._  
  
"And little Penny's stuffed bear, you were the one that repaired it?"  
  
 _Yes._ Norns, this was more embarrassing than Loki had expected it to be. Granting Tom's every wish was one thing, owning up to it was quite another. Loki felt rather like a young boy caught rubbing an itching potion into a warrior's armor; he would know, because he'd been that boy many years ago.  
  
"That's… that's amazing. Do you grant everyone's wishes?"  
  
 _Yes._  
  
Tom finished making himself a cup of tea and took it back to the sofa. "I… I'm not sure what to say to that, honestly. Bit to take in. Have you always granted wishes? I mean, is that, like, your job?"  
  
 _No,_ Loki answered, amused.  
  
"Right. So you're a god, and one day you woke up and said, 'Y'know, I think I'll be the next Santa Claus.'"  
  
 _Yes._  
  
"That's astounding. You're astounding," Tom said fervently. "Does anyone else know you exist?"  
  
Well, Loki thought, that depended on Tom's definition of "know." People knew Loki existed, but not as the god Tom knew. _Yes._  
  
"I… wow. Um, this might be insensitive, sorry, but I need time to think this over," Tom said, biting his lip. "Is that alright?"  
  
 _Yes._ Of course it was.  
  
"Right. Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow, yeah?"  
  
 _Yes_. Loki withdrew back into his own body in Asgard, lighter than he'd felt in centuries.  
  
"Until tomorrow, Tom," he whispered, rubbing a hand absently over his chest.  
  
The next day was the longest Loki had ever endured, and that was really saying something. The hours dragged on, each minute an eternity. He sped through his wishes, eager to have something to do, and mourned being so speedy when he had nothing left to pass the time. He considered watching Tom again, but two seconds in the mortal's mind made Loki feel dirty, like he was spying on someone in the bath. Finally, after what must have been three days pushed into one, Loki felt Tom speaking to him.  
  
"Hello, Mr. God? Um, it's me, Tom."  
  
With a relieved sigh, Loki closed his eyes and sent his consciousness down to Midgard. He squeezed Tom's hand in greeting, and the mortal smiled shyly.  
  
"Hello again. How was your day?"  
  
That wasn't a question Loki could answer using their simplistic method of communication. He cast his mind about, looking for another means of response, but Tom beat him to it.  
  
"Oh, right," Tom exclaimed, "I forgot. I got you something, hold on." He hurried to his bag and pulled out a white, flat board and some kind of tube. "Maybe this is stupid, sorry, but do you know what a white board is? You can write on it, like this--" he scribbled *Hello* onto the board, "-- and then just erase it." He scrubbed at the letters and, sure enough, they disappeared. "I figured, um, you could use my hand, or something? Like a Ouija board?"  
  
Loki grinned, squeezing Tom's hand in reply.  
  
"Fantastic!" Tom enthused, beaming. "I was afraid I'd insult you, or something. Not that you're easily insulted! Er, sorry. Right, I should just stick to asking questions, eh?" He sat on his sofa, uncapping the writing utensil. Loki immediately took control of Tom's hand, thrilled that the mortal trusted him enough to willing give him access to his body. Tom might not have realized the power of his offer, but Loki was all too familiar with the boundaries of magical consent, and he'd been walking them for far too long.  
  
 _Stop apologizing,_ he wrote. _You've done no wrong._  
  
"Sorry," Tom replied, wincing a moment later. "Oh, sorry. Oh! Lord, that's embarrassing. Right. Is this your handwriting, then? It's quite… detailed. Beautiful, really."  
  
Loki frowned down at the words he'd written on the board. They seemed normal to him. He erased the board with a thought and replied, _When I learned to write English, everyone wrote this way._  
  
Well, rather, he'd "suggested" the idea to a calligrapher from the time, too tired of the chicken scratch humans had used for so long, and the swirling script had taken off. No need to let Tom know that.  
  
"That's mind-boggling," Tom said, shaking his head. "How old _are_ you, if you don't mind my asking?"  
  
 _Older than your species_ , Loki wrote. _In my terms, though, I am still in the prime of my life._  
  
"So I shouldn't imagine you as some old man with an impossibly long beard, then?" Tom joked. Loki snorted and flicked the mortal's teacup over for his impudence. Tom laughed, delighted, and went to fetch a towel. "It's a fair question! Right, you're no Gandalf. Duly noted. So are you immortal, then? I suppose I've never considered that. Are gods timeless, or just much more long-lived than humans?"  
  
Loki grinned, pleased to have discovered such a clever person to befriend. While Tom was mopping up his spilled tea, Loki took the time to write out his reply. _Nothing is truly immortal, Tom, but the life-span of my people is a thousand times as long as yours. I have watched your civilization rise, and I will undoubtedly see it fall._  
  
"Well that's optimistic," Tom said dryly. "Why grant wishes, then? We have no permanence; why should our problems impact you at all?"  
  
Loki pursed his lips thoughtfully. _That question is not easily answered. Perhaps the best response is simply 'why not?'_  
  
"So you give people anything they want, the dream they dare to put to the heavens, just because you can? That's incredible. One could only hope I would use such power that wisely."  
  
 _I wasn't always so benign_ , Loki responded.  
  
Tom laughed. "Everyone has their impetuous teenage years. Cor," he swore, eyes wide, "gods have impetuous teenage years, don't they?"  
  
Loki thought back to his youth, all those years ago. "Impetuous" hadn't covered it. _Indeed, though ours last for centuries._  
  
"That's damned disturbing," Tom stated. "Going through puberty for that long? I shouldn't mind some petulance, then, either."  
  
Tom continued asking questions until well into the night, and even then he only stopped because he had to work early the next morning. "You should come see it, if you haven't yet," he said, yawning into his hand. "I'd like to know what you think of it."  
  
Loki promised to stop by and left, returning to his body and stretching, satisfied. Every bone in his body felt alive like it hadn't been in a very long time. That was, until his stomach gave a very loud grumble; had he eaten today?  
  
Loki rose and headed to the castle kitchens, hoping to persuade the cooks into making him a meal in the middle of the night. Even with his silver tongue, it would take a bit of effort.  
  
"Brother?" a coming voice asked. Loki cringed and turned toward Thor, steeling himself for one of his brother's annoying interrogations. "What are you doing out this late."  
  
"I missed dinner," Loki said smoothly, grinning when Thor winced. Loki hadn't taken a meal with the Royal Family since his return to Asgard, and it gave him vindictive glee to see Thor acknowledge the fact. "I'm to the kitchens to see what the chefs have in stock."  
  
"I would join you," Thor said, falling into step with the smaller god. "I have not seen you these past few weeks. You are well?"  
  
Loki grimaced, resigning himself to mundane conversation. "As well as can be expected, yes."  
  
"I am curious as to what you do in your rooms all day," Thor said.  
  
"I'm sure you are," Loki muttered. Louder, he said, "I'm sure the Allfather would love to know what his wayward trouble-child is up to these days."  
  
Thor frowned, hurt etched into his brow. "I seek not for Father's sake, but for my own. I worry, brother."  
  
"Worry that I'll go insane and try to take over the world again?" Loki sneered, irritation causing green sparks to fly over his fingertips.  
  
"What? Loki, no," Thor said, grabbing Loki's wrist. Loki's magic reacted instinctively, electrifying Thor's hand.  
  
"Do not touch me," Loki hissed. "You do not have that right."  
  
Thor immediately removed his hand, face even more like that of a kicked dog. "I worry about you because you're my brother, and I want to know that you are happy. The events of these past few years have hurt us all, and I do not wish to linger on them."  
  
"You're not the one who had to give up everything," Loki replied scathingly. "You still have your hammer and your throne and your friends. I lost everything. Do not expect me to forget that so readily."  
  
"Not everything, Loki," Thor replied, voice uncharacteristically soft. "You have your magic and your rooms, and you have me, if you'll ever find it in your heart to accept me. I cannot ask you to reconcile with Father in good conscience, though it would do my heart good to see my family whole once more. I can offer you only my friendship and my brotherhood."  
  
Loki didn't know what to say. In his mind, Thor and Odin were a package deal; he'd never considered gaining Thor's friendship without forgiving Odin in the same breath.  
  
"You surprise me, Thor," Loki said, choosing to be honest with the larger man. "You do not work under Odin's permission?"  
  
"I don't need Father's permission to be a good brother," Thor said darkly. Loki wondered, faintly, if that relationship was perhaps less harmonious than he'd assumed. "If you reject my offer, I will leave you to your thoughts, but I remind you that the next hundred thousand years will pass slowly without companionship."  
  
Loki considered that. So far, his foray in friendship had been rewarding. Could he gain that with someone from his own realm? "How is your human?"  
  
Thor frowned in confusion for a moment before his mind caught up with Loki's backwards assent. Beaming, he replied, "Jane is well. From what Heimdall reports, her team of fellow scientists have been busy attempting to understand our Bifröst. Heimdall is quite amused by their efforts."  
  
Loki pursed his lips, wary to make the offer lurking under his tongue. "I could do that, if you'd like," he said before he lost the nerve. "Look up on your mortal for you."  
  
"You can view Midgard?" Thor asked, surprised. "I thought only Heimdall and the Allfather had that ability."  
  
"They have it by right," Loki agreed, already regretting his decision. "I have it by magic. Father cannot know."  
  
"If he does not already, I will not be the one to divulge your secrets," Thor promised. Loki smirked to himself; Thor was so bloody _noble_. It was almost endearing.  
  
"See that you don't, else you will have to walk the Bifröst to hear of your human's activities," he replied, approaching the door to the kitchens. Luckily, one servant was still awake, cleaning, and she was more than happy to make food for the crown prince of Asgard.  
  
"If you weren't here, I'd have wasted twenty minutes persuading her into finding me bread," Loki said bitterly. Thor laughed, clapping one hand onto Loki's shoulder.  
  
"Perhaps if you were kinder to those that work for us, they wouldn't need persuading at all," he pointed out, taking a seat at a small table. Loki took the other chair, feeling uneasy at sharing so much time with his brother. When would his friends, the great Warriors Three, barge in and demand Loki reveal his (non-existent) underhanded schemes? Loki almost left without food, sure betrayal was eminent.  
  
Instead, he sent his energies to Midgard, checking on Tom before soaring across an ocean to where Jane Foster was watching a film, curled up on her sofa.  
  
"Your mortal is watching a movie," Loki said, once he'd returned to his body. Thor blinked in surprise.  
  
"You have seen her?"  
  
"Yes. It is early evening for her. She is eating a frozen dairy product."  
  
"Ice cream," Thor said, nodding knowledgeably. "She enjoys a flavor called 'Chunky Monkey.'"  
  
"You miss her," Loki said.  
  
"Every day," Thor said with a sad grin. "But my responsibilities are here, and I will honor them. At times, I wish I had your freedom so I could see her more."  
  
"My freedom?" Loki asked incredulously. "Surely you jest. I am a prison in my own home."  
  
"Are you?" Thor returned. "You have free reign to the entirety of the castle as well as the rest of the city. You spend days on end in your room unbothered. Why do you feel imprisoned?"  
  
"I cannot move without someone questioning my intent," Loki snapped. "My every move is checked."  
  
"I cannot deny that people are wary of you," Thor said. "You are the God of Lies and Mischief, and you brought chaos upon our realm for a time. I cannot change the people's opinions any more than I can change the events that caused them. But you are not imprisoned, my brother. I shall parry with those that dare suggest such."  
  
"You would fight for me? My hero," Loki joked, feeling warmth despite himself. "Perhaps I have misjudged my position in the house."  
  
"You are Loki, prince of Asgard. My brother. That's it," Thor said. "Your misdeeds were forgiven long ago."  
  
"Well, perhaps there is hope for me yet," Loki said, swallowing around how sincere the words felt. He dared not hope, this soon, for miracles. Then again, perhaps Tom's wish was coming true. Maybe Loki was salvageable.  
  
Loki spent the next two months carefully working on his friendship with Thor between bouts of time spent with Tom. Thor was the same stupidly noble person Loki'd always known, but he had gained a maturity that made him careful with his words. He had become wise, Loki realized. They both had. Their conversations were delicate, Thor cautious of upsetting Loki and Loki terrified that he was placing his trust in the wrong person. Yet Thor proved to be a reliable friend, and their continued contact made other people in the castle begin to trust Loki more. Thor always laughed when Loki got up to no good, especially when it was targeted at the God of Thunder himself, and Loki delighted in casting all sorts of nonsense spells around the castle to hear his brother's loud guffaws.  
  
His relationship with Tom was deep and philosophical, an almost direct contrast to what he shared with Thor. It took Tom almost a month to stop coming up with questions for the god, only she of which Loki deigned to answer. Tom took to calling Loki "the Wishmaster" when Loki refused to give the mortal his name and, amused, Loki let the name stick.  
  
Loki discovered, after a series of his own careful questions, the reason Tom had been portraying him: Midgardians, it seemed, were left with hundreds of questions about why the skies rained aliens one day, eleven years ago. SHIELD refused to reveal any answers, and each of the Avengers remained stone-faced. The people of Midgard were forced to draw their own conclusions, based on the limited knowledge they had, and the movies were a fictitious recreation of the events. Loki didn't tell Tom about how spot-on the story was, and Tom didn't think to ask.  
  
Instead, he took to taking Loki around the city, especially once he'd realized the god could communicate telepathically.  
  
"Why didn't we start this way?" he asked Loki.  
  
"Your mind is your own space," Loki replied, "and I would not invade your privacy like that." More than he already had, but those words need not see the light of day.  
  
"Your voice," Tom breathed. "It's so human."  
  
"What did you expect?" Loki asked, confused. "I can speak over a thousand tongues perfectly, why would human English be so different?"  
  
"Don't ask me that," Tom said, embarrassed. "I'll look stupid."  
  
"You never look stupid," Loki rebuked, offended. "I would not associate with a 'stupid' mortal."  
  
"Right," Tom said, flushing faintly. "To the museum, then?"  
  
And so their adventures went, Tom showing Loki every important landmark in London and Loki correcting Tom when history got things wrong. Which, disappointingly was often.  
  
"You saying that the Battle of Hastings was a familial squabble," Tom said disbelievingly. "The greatest battle in Britain's history was a product of petty jealousy?"  
  
"The scullery maid in question was quite beautiful, if it's any consolation," Loki offered teasingly. Tormenting Tom with historical inaccuracies was almost as fun as telling him how despicable Shakespeare had been. Almost.  
  
"I've half a mind to think you're lying to me," Tom said warningly.  
  
"Believe what you want. I'm telling you facts," Loki sniffed.  
  
It took Loki another six months to realize that his feelings for the mortal ran deeper than mere friendship. His dreams of Tom slowly grew more and more intimate, casual conversations turning into shy affection, which turned into something far more erotic. Loki couldn't help but wonder if Tom felt the same, and he couldn't bear to discover the answer.  
  
Thor, surprisingly, became a wise source of counsel. His relationship with Jane was similar enough to Loki's predicament that Thor's advice rang true.  
  
"I wouldn't change my decision for all of the nine realms," he told Loki. "Jane has been the best part of my life, and I would not be the man I am today without her guidance. If you feel that you can have that with this mortal man, then you have my blessing."  
  
Loki disagreed. Tom's life was a third of the way over, and Loki couldn't bear losing someone else, not so quickly after his already massive losses.  
  
"Loki, Tom will die anyway," Thor said gently. "Whether you love him openly or in secret, that truth will not fade. You can decide only if you wish to have your love returned."  
  
Loki sat on the decision for as long as he possibly could, terrified of the consequences of either choice. Could he reveal his identity to Tom, after lying to him for so long? What if Tom rejected him? Worse yet, what if Tom pitied him? Tom knew his story all to well, he'd gotten inside Loki's head just as the god had gotten into his; what if Tom couldn't get over that?  
  
It was too risky. Wasn't it? Was the slim probability of success worth it? Loki couldn't begin to know.  
  
It turned out, the decision was taken from him. Before he knew it, a year had passed since Tom had sent his first wish to the stars, and the mortal planned an anniversary supper.  
  
"I know you can't eat, but we still deserve to celebrate," he'd told the protesting god.  
  
Loki could sense Tom's nerves even from Asgard on the day of their anniversary, though he couldn't fathom why. Dinner went splendidly, and Loki returned to Asgard happy and confused. What had Tom so anxious?  
  
That night, Loki sifted through his wishes, as he did every night before going to bed. The last strand gleamed silvery gold, just the same as Tom's wish had a year ago. Loki swallowed the wish, terrified and curious, and waited to hear what his beloved mortal could possibly have wished for.  
  
"I know you can hear me, but don't, er, don't come down," Tom said, voice shaking. "I don't think I could do this if you were here. I just… I feel so dumb, and yeah, I know, I'm not, but I feel that way. I don't know your name or anything about you, really, and that should be enough for me to, well. I'm in love with you, Wishmaster. I love you so much, and I don't even know who you are. All I want is to be enough for you, and I know that will never happen. But you deserve to know. I, Tom Hiddleston, am completely in love with you. So my wish? I want you to find happiness, whatever it means to you. I know something happened to you and I don't care what it was, only that you can find it in yourself to forgive those sins. You're the most amazing, beautiful, worthy person I've ever met. You deserve to be happy. So do that, Wishmaster, for me. Please."  
  
Loki drew in a long, rattling breath, loud in the silence of his rooms. _Oh._  
  
It took him less than a second to make up his mind. He raced from the castle, using magic to speed his already long gait. "Heimdall, please," he gasped, out of breath.  
  
"Loki," Heimdall greeted. "I wondered when you would gather the courage."  
  
"There's no time for that now," Loki replied impatiently. "I'm sorry for all that I did to you, but I desperately need to get to Midgard. Can you allow me the favor of waiting for this fight?"  
  
"Not the courage to face me," Heimdall replied with a patient smile. "The courage to tell him. Go, young prince. I grant you passage to Midgard."  
  
He slid his sword into the dais and, before Loki had time to be surprised, he was standing outside Tom's apartment. His hurry left him in a rush and his nerves returned tenfold. What was he doing here? He should just--  
  
The door opened and Tom's head popped out, looking concerned. "What was that noi-- oh my God."  
  
Loki shifted on his feet. "Hello."  
  
"I-- hi. Hello. Um. Loki?"  
  
"I have gone by that name," Loki confirmed, panicked laughter bubbling in his throat. "But I prefer Wishmaster."  
  



	2. The Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Due to the volume of reader requests (and my own selfish interests), I decided to continue writing in the Wishmaster 'verse. Finals are over (thank everything holy) and I can commit to some ridiculously fluffy frostpudding action. ;)
> 
> Un-beta'd. 
> 
> Oh, and this is very much a holiday story. I didn't say that in the first chapter, though I meant to.

Loki awoke in a bed that was not his, limbs tangled in warmth. He froze, fingers ready to curl around an ice spear, when the warmth moved, and Loki realized he was looking at a mass of blond curls.  
  
 _Tom._  
  
A wave of warmth, identical to that surrounding his body, washed over his heart. He tightened his arms around the mortal-- _his_ mortal-- and closed his eyes. Last night had been eventful for them both, and they undoubtedly deserved a lie-in.  
  


* * *

"I have gone by that name," Loki confirmed, panicked laughter bubbling in his throat. "But I prefer Wishmaster."  
  
And, just like that, Tom fainted.  
  
Loki rushed to catch him before he hit the ground. Terrified, he carried the man to his ever-familiar sofa, biting at the inside of his cheek. Was that an "Oh my God, my love has materialized before my eyes and this is a dream come true" faint or an "Oh my God, Loki is going to kill us all" faint? Tom could really go either way, there.  
  
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long to get his answer. Tom rustled back to consciousness but a few minutes later, inhaling sharply when he saw Loki.  
  
"It wasn't a dream, then," he whispered.  
  
"No," Loki said, sure he'd made a very bad decision. His heart ached, and he knew he had to leave before it broke completely. He should have known better than to hope Tom would love him back. "I will go now. Good-bye, Tom."  
  
He turned to leave. "No!" Tom exclaimed, hurrying to stand. "Please, I didn't mean it that way. I was just surprised. Don't leave. Please."  
  
Loki pursed his lips and turned to face the mortal. "As you wish."  
  
A burst of hysterical laughter burst out of Tom. "It is, isn't it? My Wishmaster, come to life. It's really you?"  
  
"It is," Loki confirmed, wary to hope but feeling vaguely optimistic, regardless.  
  
"And you're Loki, prince of Asgard and the God of Lies and Mischief?"  
  
"I am."  
  
"Well that's a conflict of interests, isn't it? And it's one hell of a coincidence," Tom said, crossing his arms.  
  
Loki bit his lip. "I displease you," he stated, grateful when his voice stayed steady. "I knew I would. I should go."  
  
"What? No!" Tom uncrossed his arms, reaching out to Loki as if to comfort him. "I didn't mean it that way. I, shit. Everything I say comes out wrong. You don't 'displease' me, I'm just trying to make sense of it all, alright? Two very different parts of my world just collided. On one hand, you're the vengeful god that brought ruin upon our world a decade ago, and you're the character I played for months. I can't even begin to understand how we look so similar, let's not even go there. But on the other hand, you're the magnificent being that has been my constant companion for this past year. How is that possible?"  
  
"It's a long story," Loki said uncertainly.  
  
"Well, you gave me a year. I think I can give you a few hours in return." Tom sat on one side of his sofa, gesturing toward the other. "I'm all ears."  
  
Loki sat carefully and organized his thoughts. "I suppose it began all those years ago, when I discovered my true birthright…."   
  
He spoke for hours, describing how betrayed he'd felt and how long it had taken him to get over his anger. Once he got started the story just poured out of him, yearning to reach sympathetic ears. Loki had never told his side of things to anyone. He explained his reasoning for forging an alliance with the Chitauri and how much he regretted his actions on Earth, hiding from Tom the stories of how the Chitauri had tortured him. He, haltingly, told Tom about his return to Asgard, his imprisonment, the resurgence of the Dark Elves, and his mother's death.  
  
"Frigga's dead?" Tom asked, eyes gleaming with sorrow.   
  
"Killed by the heinous beast I helped escape the dungeons, yes," Loki said. The pain was just as fresh as it had been when he heard of her death, just as vivid. "If I hadn't told him to take that other staircase, she might still be alive."  
  
"No, Loki," Tom said, reaching across the sofa to grasp Loki's hand. "You mustn't do that to yourself. Frigga died protecting Asgard, right? She was defending her people. You can't shoulder that blame. Frigga knew what she was doing."  
  
"You can't know that," Loki hissed. He jerked his hand and something glass broke in the kitchen and both men swiveled their heads toward it. The distraction gave Loki a moment to get his grief back under control.  
  
"You're right," Tom said carefully. "I can't. But from what I've heard, you didn't know Frigga was guarding the Ether, and you certainly didn't want her dead. That's what's important."  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore," Loki sniffed. "What's done is done. I can't fix her death any more than I can fix the other monstrosities I've committed."  
  
Tom was silent for a moment, and Loki only then realized that they were still holding hands. Tom was warmer than he was, hand brown and healthy looking against Loki's pale flesh.  
  
"So what happens next?" Tom asked. "How did you become my Wishmaster?"  
  
 _His_ Wishmaster. Loki knew he shouldn't take such comfort in that, but he did anyway. Confidence rebolstered, he explained how his grief and self-hatred turned into depression and seclusion, and how he took to granting small wishes to pass his time in solitude. He told of how his need to help people grew, how he lived to hear people appreciate his magic instead of hating it, and how those people's tiny troubles helped to alleviate his own heartache.   
  
"Then, one night, I heard a wish that asked not for personal gain, but for the unselfish desire to give someone else a moment of happiness," Loki said, giving Tom a small smile. "In all my time granting wishes, I'd never heard someone wish for that. That wish was so simple, yet it plagues my thoughts for days. I had to know of this human whose deepest desire was someone else's gain. So I sent my consciousness to Midgard and, surprisingly, saw myself."  
  
"I was shooting for _Thor_ back then," Tom recalled, smiling.  
  
"Indeed. I was shocked, to say the least. I watched as you pretended to be me, confronting the Allfather."  
  
"Oh, it was _you_ , wasn't it?" Tom breathed, puzzle pieces clicking to place behind his eyes. "I'd been struggling with that scene for hours, you know, and then it all just made sense so clearly. That was _you_."  
  
"I nudged you in the right direction, yes," Loki said, casting his eyes down to his lap. "I had no right to impose on your thoughts like that."  
  
"Oh, fuck that," Tom snorted. "You made my job a lot easier, you know. Don't act like it was some great catastrophe."  
  
"You did not give your consent," Loki insisted. "I had--"  
  
"Consent I gave eagerly as soon as I knew I could," Tom cut in smoothly. "My mind has always been open to you, you know that."  
  
"Yes, well, anyway," Loki responded, flustered. "You were playing me and I didn't understand why. I watched you often, easing what problems I could."  
  
"The paparazzi and the fans, right?" Tom asked, laughing. "I was wondering why they were leaving me alone."  
  
"Indeed," Loki said. "And you kept talking to me at night, saying such beautiful things. No one had spoken to me that way in centuries."  
  
"That makes me feel like less of a tit, then," Tom said, blushing. "When I found out you really did exist, I was mortified I'd been so poetic."  
  
"You have no need to be embarrassed," Loki said with conviction. "You are brilliant, Tom. You were my shining star just as I was yours, so don't you dare feel shame."  
  
"'Was,'" Tom repeated. "Why are you using the past tense?"  
  
Loki flared his nostrils, self-esteem plummeting. "Well, you surely will want nothing to do with my now that you know my true identity. I can recognize that."  
  
Tom blinked. "Don't be so sure," he said softly. "I love you; that doesn't change because I've seen your face. Hell, I'm thrilled you have a face at all. I had almost convinced myself that I was talking to an amorphous ball of celestial intent, or something."  
  
"You… what?" Loki furrowed his brow. "What?"  
  
Tom grinned. "Which bit, the loving you or the celestial intent?"  
  
"You still love me," Loki said. "You can't. You shouldn't."  
  
"Funny, how love doesn't really work like that," Tom replied dryly. "And why the hell not? Loki, you're far from the person you were ten years ago. Look at all the good you've done, all the people you've helped. How many people died in New York?"  
  
"Three thousand two hundred and eighty-one," Loki responded immediately.  
  
"Right, and how many wishes have you granted? And how many of those were for things like food and shelter? How many people have you saved, Loki?"  
  
"I… I don't know," Loki admitted.  
  
"I thought so," Tom said matter-of-factly. "You don't just become a nun after you sinned once. You're worthy of being loved, you've done more than proven that."  
  
"I am not sure I can agree with that," Loki said. Tom opened his lips to speak and Loki raised his free hand. "But I can try to believe you."  
  
Tom smiled and squeezed Loki's hand. "That's all I want. Well, not quite. I have a billion more questions to ask, now that you're here, but those can wait. Hungry?"  
  
"You had dinner not four hours ago," Loki said, confused. "We had dinner together, remember?"  
  
"I did, yes," Tom said, "but you've never had pudding, and I'm always hungry for pudding."  
  
Pudding, Loki knew, was Tom's favorite food; he ate enough of the stuff to feed a small country. He followed the mortal into his tiny kitchen and accepted a small bowl of spongy cake.  
  
"Figgy pudding," Tom said, "usually eaten for Christmas but, well, I have the self-control of a four-year-old, and we're close enough to it, anyway. What do you think?"  
  
Loki took a bite. It was disgusting. "You enjoy this food?"  
  
Tom stopped dead in his tracks. "Not liking my pudding may very well be a deal-breaker." At Loki's wide-eyed stare, he laughed. "I'm joking, although you're obviously insane. Come on, give us your bowl. I'll work out harder tomorrow."  
  
Loki offered up his bowl and Tom ate it happily. "I weep for your tastebuds," Loki said solemnly, smiling when Tom stuck his tongue out.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, big god. Are you going to repair the vase you broke, or am I going to have to wish on a star?"  
  
Loki narrowed his eyes at Tom. "I've had men's heads for less, you know." He waved his hand and, like watching a film in reverse, the pieces of vase righted themselves on the counter. "I am no party trick."  
  
"I know," Tom said, sounding torn somewhere between guilt and amusement. "I also know that you know I'm teasing you, and that I very much respect your talents."  
  
"You haven't even begun to see my talents," Loki replied, eyes glittering promisingly. His grin sharpened when Tom's breath stuttered.  
  
"I, er," Tom stammered. "I-- I can't respond to that."  
  
"I've made you speechless already?" Loki asked silkily, taking a predatory step into Tom's space. He very much enjoyed the way Tom's flush spread down his neck. How far did it go? "Shame. That was going to be my first trick."  
  
"I, Jesus," Tom whispered. "Fuck it." One arm shot out around Loki's head and then Tom was kissing him, hard and needy and perfect. Loki wrapped his arms around Tom's waist, tracing the seam of Tom's lips with his tongue until the mortal let him in. Loki knew he was an excellent kisser-- his silver tongue was famed for more than one reason, after all-- and he took great pleasure in feeling Tom sag against his body.  
  
And Tom responded beautifully. He surrendered control almost immediately (though, when kissing a god, had you much choice?), which gave Loki leeway to soften the kiss, to turn it into something appreciative. Tom's other hand came up to the side of Loki's face, cupping his jaw. When the kiss broke, Tom leaned fully against Loki, hugging him.  
  
"I just can't believe you're real, and here," he whispered. "It's like a dream come true."  
  
Loki closed his eyes, unseen, and shed a tear that he would later deny with all his might. "I know what you mean."  
  
Because how was this possible? Against all odds, Loki had found a beautiful, remarkable, kind person who accepted him wholeheartedly, who knew and understood his pain and his regret. Loki might have been the Wishmaster, but Tom was the Wish. He always had been, from the very start.   
  
Tom squeezed Loki harder, like he knew what the god was thinking. Maybe he did. "This is going to come out all wrong, but would you like to go to bed? You're welcome to stay."  
  
"Can't get enough of me, can you?" Loki joked, pulling back to watch Tom laugh. "I would, yes. Have you sleep clothes?" He doubted his Asgardian daywear, which featured more metal than fabric, was suitable for nighttime use.  
  
"Oh yeah, of course. Wow, a god is about to wear my pyjamas. No, scratch that, _Loki_ is going to wear my pyjamas. I'm about to sleep with a god."  
  
Never let it be said Loki was one to pass up an opportunity. "Oh," he purred, leaning in close to Tom's ear, "when you sleep with a god, you'll _know_ it."  
  
Tom shivered. "I don't doubt that," he said faintly. He walked out of the kitchen, and Loki could swear he heard him mutter, "It might just be the end of me."  
  
Loki smirked to himself and followed Tom into his bedroom, beginning to unfasten the buckles of his armor as he went. Tom handed him a stack of soft clothes and gestured vaguely in the direction of his en suite bathroom. "I'll just. You change here."  
  
"Very well." Loki pulled off his armor and peeled off his tunic. Tom was still standing in front of him, pyjamas forgotten in his slack grip.  
  
"We really are remarkably similar," he said. "Is that weird?"  
  
"Tom, you are a human. I am a Frost Giant, a prince of Asgard, and near immortal. Be thankful we look so alike; it may be the only thing we share in common."  
  
Tom's lips turned down in consideration. "Well, when you put it like that."   
  
Loki grinned, resting one hand on the laces of his trousers. "Are you going to change, or are we about to see just how similar we are?"  
  
"Right-o!" Tom said, doing an about-face and hurrying to the bathroom. Loki's laughter followed him all the way.  
  
Loki snapped his fingers, changing instantly into Tom's pyjamas, his own clothing folding itself neatly into a pile on a nearby chair. Yes, he could have just magicked his tunic and armor off as well, but where was the fun in that?  
  
Tom came out wearing an almost identical t-shirt and pyjama pants combination. "I'd say you look good in my clothes, but honestly I'm just still trying to get over seeing Loki in my clothes. This is surreal."  
  
"I could just as easily be out of them," Loki offered, smirking.  
  
Tom shook his head, sighing melodramatically. "This god's the one I fell in love with. Of course it is."  
  
"I could introduce you to Thor," Loki suggested lightly. "Although he tends to go for the small, brown-haired, female types. Actually, exactly the opposite of you."  
  
"No thanks," Tom said, grimacing. "Although I would like to meet him, you know. Eventually. Unless you still hate him."  
  
"No," Loki said, smiling to himself. "No, not anymore. Maybe a little. Brothers are supposed to hate each other a little, I think. There's probably a rule about it."  
  
Tom looked somewhat like he was going to cry. "You have no idea what that means to me, to hear that. I mean, when I was filming _Thor_ , I kept wondering what would happen to Loki. Would he go off the deep end, would he turn evil… it's nice to know that things worked out, in the end. But now I'm getting maudlin, which means it is most definitely time for bed."  
  
He climbed in on one side, leaving clear room for Loki, who climbed in after him. They lay facing each other, sharing a comfortable silence.  
  
"Goodnight, Loki," Tom said softly.  
  
"Goodnight, Tom."  
  
Sleep had never come easier.

* * *

 

Loki breathed in, reveling in the comfort and joy of waking up in bed with someone you love. It was a feeling he'd forgotten.  
  
Tom woke slowly, body rustling for minutes before he actually opened his eyes.   
  
"Good morning," Loki whispered. Tom stilled and almost immediately rolled over.  
  
"You're here," he whispered, a wide grin stretching across his face.  
  
"No, I tottered off as soon as the heartfelt confessions were over," Loki replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
To his credit, Tom's smile only got wider. "Make that 'God of Lies, Mischief, _and_ Sarcasm.' Good morning. What would you like to do today?"   
  
"What do you think of Fiji?" Loki asked.  
  
Tom's brow furrowed. "Um, it's nice? I dunno, I've never been. How is that relevant?"  
  
"Let's go."  
  
"To what, to Fiji? Today? What, are you joking?"  
  
"I never joke about day plans," Loki said seriously. A second later, he smirked. "Do you want to go?"  
  
"To Fiji. For a day trip. Are you mad?"  
  
"I'm a god," Loki said. "We're all mad."  
  
Tom bit his lip. "You can teleport us there, can't you? This is ridiculous. Yeah, sure, why not? Let's go to Fiji."  
  
Loki closed his eyes and silently chanted an incantation. A moment later, they were standing on a white sand beach, still very much intertwined, and still very much in their pyjamas.  
  
"If I didn't love you before," Tom joked, kissing Loki lightly on the lips. "Last one in the water is a rotten egg." He pulled away from Loki and started tugging off his clothes. Loki snorted and snapped his fingers, removing both of their clothes and transporting himself into the water.  
  
"You're a filthy cheat," Tom called from the shore.  
  
"Get in the water," Loki called back, "unless you plan on giving me a show." Tom looked down, comically realizing he was naked, and hurried toward the water.  
  
"You're the worst," Tom said, swimming to Loki. "The actual worst, you know that?"  
  
Loki grinned. "Let me show you how good I can be."  
  
Laughing delightedly, Tom did.   
  
(It turned out Loki could be very, very good. Repeatedly. And in several positions.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect two more chapters!
> 
> Up next: we discover why Jenetica changed the rating to E.


	3. Wishful Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn, as promised, with oodles of fluff because why the hell not? 
> 
> Un-beta'd. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my amazing best friend, Megan, for suggesting that I add this brand of special something to this fic. 
> 
> This chapter changes POV to Tom's perspective; I hate changing that, usually, but the porn demanded at, and we are all basically at the mercy of porn, aren't we?

About a week after Loki's arrival and what was quite possibly the largest shock in Tom's life, the god had to return to Asgard. "I did not seek permission from the Allfather," Loki explained regretfully. "And I must check on my wishes. I will return before you notice my absence."  
  
"Loki, you don't have to explain yourself to me," Tom said, brushing his fingers through Loki's inky hair. The god was laying across his lap, frowning petulantly, and Tom tried very hard not to find it adorable. "You're needed elsewhere. I didn't honestly expect you to hang around here all the time. You're a god, that would be stupid."  
  
"Would it?" Loki asked suddenly, catching Tom off-guard. "Would it be so stupid to have me around?"  
  
"You have a knack for twisting my words to be absolutely insulting," Tom complained, lips tilted in a soft smile. "You know exactly what I meant."  
  
Loki grinned, mischief sparking in his green eyes, and God but Tom loved him. "Perhaps." His expression wilted, turning thoughtful. "Perhaps it is I that is stupid for wanting to be here instead of in Asgard. I should not so dread returning to my home."  
  
"Codswallop," Tom replied. "You have every right to feel that way. I might be tooting my own horn, here, but it's fully understandable that you want to stay here. I certainly wouldn't mind."  
  
"Even if I break all your breakables and eat all your edibles?" Loki joked. "I can be quite the nuisance, should I choose to be."  
  
"Even then," Tom affirmed. "Though I'd ask you do neither of those things. It's hard enough going to the shops without people harassing me."  
  
"My offer still stands, you know," Loki pointed out.  
  
"I don't want you to cast a deflection spell on me," Tom sighed, the words falling from his mouth for what felt like the twelfth time that day. "I don't want you fixing all my little problems in the blink of an eye, and I don't want you to think that I'm using you for your powers. You know that."  
  
"You're ridiculously noble," Loki replied, rolling his eyes. "I know how it feels to be in the spotlight all the time. I know what a prison it can be. All I'm offering is a chance to move around without a thousand pairs of eyes on your back."  
  
"Yes, yes, I know," Tom said, fondly exasperated. "Just as you know what I'll say next. We can only argue this so many times, love."  
  
Loki picked up a book off the nearby coffee table, absent-mindedly transfiguring it into an animated paper dragon that sat regally on his chest. "You'll miss me, then?"  
  
Tom stared at the dragon, transfixed. "You know, a year and I'm still not used to magic. You've just turned _King Lear_ into a dragon like it's nothing."  
  
The dragon opened its wings and took off, flying around Tom's head with a rustle of pages. When it neared his face it opened its mouth and, roaring with the sound of paper ripping, spat a stream of ink on Tom's nose.   
  
Loki laughed at Tom's shocked swear, curling into a ball on his side. "Your face," he gasped. "It's priceless."  
  
"Yeah, well, fuck you, too," Tom said, catching drops of ink on his fingertips and flicking them at Loki. "I'm not sure if I'm dating a god or a four-year-old."  
  
"You're assuming the two are mutually exclusive." Loki waved his hand and the dragon collapsed back into a book and the ink disappeared. "Answer my question."  
  
"Of course I'll miss you. But I know you'll come back, which makes it less potent. It's only for a few days, right?"  
  
"Ostensibly, yes," Loki said. "Assuming I am not waylaid by an enemy or, worse, a family member."  
  
"Fine. So stop pouting. I'll be right here when you get back." Tom tapped Loki on the nose. "The sooner you go, the sooner you can return."  
  
"You're worse than Thor," Loki grumbled, sitting upright. "Alright, I'm going. Shall I bring anything back?"  
  
"From Asgard?" Tom thought about that. If the movies were anything like reality, then Asgard was a treasure trove of alien technology and knowledge. Tom wouldn't mind getting his hands on, well, all of it. "I'm sure you'll find me something, but all I want is your safe return."  
  
"Very well," Loki said, smiling softly. "See you soon."  
  
Tom stood, offering Loki a hand up. "I'll wish to you, yeah?"  
  
"I look forward to it." Loki leaned in and pressed a kiss to Tom's kiss, hot and open-mouthed. "Good-bye, Tom." He snapped his fingers and vanished, and suddenly Tom felt cold with the loss. He sighed, shaking his head at himself, and headed to his bathroom to shower.  
  
He felt like a teenaged girl with a crush. His feelings were so visceral and demanding, like he'd never been in love before. He had, of course, but not to someone like Loki. Loki was the kind of person that parents warned their children away from-- he was damaged and gun-shy, manipulative and yet so very honest-- and it made Tom love him all the more. When his Wishmaster had been an intangible deity accompanying him on jaunts around town and the like, Tom had loved him like a young boy loves the most popular girl in school. His love was true but shallow, encompassing but hopeless. Then his Wishmaster became Loki, a beautiful man with a tragic past and a chip on his shoulder the size of London, and Tom's love settled down into something far less naïve but far more real. Loki was someone Tom could care for, someone he could look after and look up to and look lovingly at. Loki was exactly what Tom needed.  
  
But it was more than the idea of Loki that Tom loved, it was the man himself. Loki was sharp and cutting in one breath, then shy and vulnerable in the next. Loki was smart, sly, and outrageously funny (Tom had laughed more in the past week than he had in years), and he could even be kind when he wanted to be. Loki so very obviously loved Tom, and had loved him for months, and all of it made Tom want to hide the god away in his closet and keep him safe from everything in the world.   
  
But he couldn't, and Tom knew that. Loki was a grown man and he had to face his own problems, and no matter how much Tom wanted to Mother Hen him, he knew it just wasn't possible. All he could do was be supportive when Loki needed him; Tom could handle that.  
  
Days later, Tom was less confident in his abilities. He'd heard neither hide nor hair from Loki, and his worry was cementing into place. He'd been wishing to Loki every night, letting him know how his days were (boring) and letting him know how his nights were (lonely). He'd been waiting for Loki to reply, even just a "Miss you, too," but to no avail. That was, until the fourth night, when Loki felt a warmth around his hand, just like all those months ago.  
  
"Loki?" Tom asked aloud into the quiet of his flat. "Is that you I feel?"  
  
"Yes," Loki replied, sounding relieved. "It is I."  
  
"How are things in Asgard?"  
  
Loki snorted. "Well, I'm not dead yet, so I can't complain."  
  
"That's terrible," Tom admonished softly. "Come on, talk to me."  
  
"Odin knows about us," Loki said quietly. "He knows about you."  
  
"Oh." Tom wasn't completely sure what to make of that. "Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"  
  
"Odin is cunning and resourceful, and you are now in his sights," Loki said, sounding apologetic. "He could very easily use you as bait for me, should he need something from me."  
  
"Well, that's not so bad, right?" Tom asked, injecting his question with false hope. Honestly, that sounded terrifying as hell.   
  
"I will keep you safe," Loki promised, conviction running deep in the connection. "You need not fear, my love."  
  
"I know you will," Tom said. "It's you I'm worried about. Don't let me be the cause for unrest, yeah? If Odin tries to force you into something and uses me as blackmail, you need to do the right thing for you."  
  
"You are the right thing for me," Loki said simply. "How's Midgard?"  
  
"It's fine," Tom said, happy to let Loki change the subject. "Rainy and dismal, but that's about on par for this time of year. What's Asgard like?"  
  
"Asgard doesn't have seasons," Loki said. "It is warm here always. You would like it, I suspect."  
  
"I have no doubt I would. And Thor?"  
  
"Thor is… Thor. He has already gotten drunk twice in my honor."  
  
"Loki," Tom chastised.  
  
"He is well," Loki said, voice softer. "He says hello. Well, actually, he said, "Bid your mortal the greatest of greetings, and bless him with fertile loins."  
  
Tom choked on air. "I see."  
  
Loki chuckled, the sound warm even over the distant connection. "He does take some getting used to. I assured him that your loins were sufficiently fertile, don't worry."  
  
"I wasn't worried, thanks," Tom said, sounding strangled. "Is that even-- you know, I don't want to know. Tell him I say hi."  
  
"I'm not a bloody pigeon," Loki grumbled. Tom laughed.  
  
“I really do miss you,” he said, scratching a hand through his curls.  
  
“How much do you miss me?” Loki asked innocently. A second later, the warmth Tom had grown to associate with Loki pressed against the center of his chest, sliding down his torso suggestively.  
  
“Are you trying to have telepathic phone sex with me?” Tom asked incredulously.   
  
“'Trying' implies that it isn't working,” Loki purred. The warmth brushed over Tom's stomach, tracing the definitions of muscle just the way Loki did. Tom sucked in a breath, torn between lust and bemusement. “Am I trying, Tom, or am I succeeding?”  
  
The warmth wrapped around Tom's cock, stroking him from base to tip. “Fuck,” Tom hissed, biting his lip harshly.  
  
“The latter, then.” The warmth pressed just under the head of Tom's cock just as a new heat sparked on a nipple. Tom swore loudly.  
  
“Loki,” he breathed. “I need--”  
  
“I know exactly what you need,” Loki said silkily. “Just how desperate do you think I can make you, Tom? My magic caressing your body from top to bottom, hitting place you barely even knew existed... how mad can I drive you?”  
  
Tom popped open the button on his jeans and grabbed his cock through his boxers. “I have a feeling I'm about to find out.”  
  
Loki laughed, dark and sinister. It sent a shiver down Tom's spine. “Go to your bedroom. Hands on the headboard. Don't make me tell you twice.”  
  
Tom stood, past the point of testing Loki's patience, and made his way to the bedroom. Somewhere along the way, Loki magicked all of Tom's clothes off, so that he was fully naked as he lay down on his bed. Tom dutifully held his hands up by the headboard, inhaling when he felt invisible shackles lock him into place.  
  
The warmth, which had granted him reprieve while he was walking, returned full force, heating along his cock and tickling down his sides at the same time.   
  
“Loki,” Tom moaned, “please.”  
  
“Begging? Already?” Loki tsked. “You haven't even begun to feel desperate yet, my love.”  
  
Tom shut his eyes tightly. “Shit.”  
  
The warmth jacked him slowly, pressure increasing with each stroke. A new source of warmth pressed against Tom's hole, and he arched off the bed. Slowly, the heat worked him open, rubbing hard against Tom's prostate. The warmth working its way down his sides returned its focus to his nipples, pinching and soothing in equal measure.   
  
“Norns, you look so beautiful like this,” Loki whispered reverentially. “How I wish I could be there to feel you come apart around me.”  
  
“How?” Tom asked through grit teeth. The waves of pleasure were crashing more and more quickly through his body, the tingles of one barely fading before the next hit.   
  
“How what, darling?”  
  
“How would you-- fuck, right there _Christ_ \-- how would you do it?”   
  
“How would I make you come apart?” Loki drawled, clearly grinning. “Oh, my sweet Tom, are you asking me to dirty talk to you?”  
  
Tom didn't reply, but his blush said enough.  
  
“Oh, sweetheart. Where to begin?” The warmth left Tom all at once and he whimpered in protest. “Patience, Tom. I would start by kissing down your chest, so like mine.” Trails of heat seared down Tom's torso, just light enough to tickle. “Then, when you'd least expect it, I'd bite you, just here.” A sensation very much like getting bitten pressed on the ridge of Tom's hip, and he gasped raggedly into the near silence of his room.  
  
“You're always so responsive,” Loki praised, and a comforting wash of warmth rubbed down Tom's side. “Next, I would lick down your hip, where you taste like Valhalla itself, but I would move past your cock down to your thigh.”  
  
Tom whined at the mysteriously wet feeling on his leg. “Loki,” he pleaded.  
  
“You haven't deserved relief yet,” Loki said darkly. “I expect you to sing like a bird for me, Tom. Can you do that?” A sharp heat grazed another of Tom's nipples at once, and he moaned high and reedy.  
  
“Perfect.” Warmth traced the underside of Tom's cock, a clear reward. “Tell me what you want from me, Tom.”  
  
“God, _everything_ ,” Tom hissed, clenching his fingers to keep the circulation pumping. “I want to ride you until you see stars, Loki, I want you suck you down and take you in and never let you go.”  
  
Suddenly warmth gripped his cock and tugged at the same time as it pressed into Tom's hole forcefully, causing him to arch off the bed and scream. “Norns, Tom,” Loki breathed, sounding strained. It was the first time he'd shown signs of being affected, and, if he wasn't currently trying to stave off a sudden orgasm, Tom would have grinned in satisfaction. “I think you've earned your reward,” Loki growled. “Come for me, Tom.”  
  
The warmth twisted around Tom's cock and inside him all at the same time, and Tom bowed so hard his spine popped, coming the hardest he had in his entire life. The entire world went white and then heavy, swirling black, color returning in splotches. Tom lay bonelessly on the bed, pretty sure he'd lost the capacity for higher functions entirely.  
  
"Tom?"  
  
"Mmhmm?"  
  
"Norns, Tom." Loki sounded broken. "What I would give to fuck you into the mattress right now." Tom taught him Midgardian curses a few days ago, and he was pretty sure it was his best decision ever because the words never sounded filthier than when they came out of the god's mouth.  
  
"Don't think I could do that right now," Tom replied, his words slurring together. Loki had really done a number on him. "Can you get yourself off and still talk to me?" He heard Loki gasp, and took that as a yes. "I want to hear you, love. What do gods sound like when they come?"  
  
Honestly, if you'd ever asked Tom if he would say something like that, he'd have been thunderstruck. Tom Hiddleston didn't have a dirty mouth; he barely even had a dirty mind. Yet a mere week in Loki's presence had gotten Tom to say all sorts of things, things he would have giggled nervously at in the past. But, hearing Loki's muffled whines and soft pants, Tom wouldn't take back his words for the world.  
  
"T-Tom," Loki gasped. Tom opened his mouth to reply, but Loki said it again, harder. He was panting his name, Tom realized, cock giving a valiant twitch at the thought. "Oh, Tom, I-- Tom!" Loki came with a shout, and a wall of pleasure burst over the connection. If Tom had a younger man's body, he would have started firming up again at the sensation. As it was, he felt even more blissed out than before. His god was millions of miles away, but they could still have each other. How lucky was he?  
  
"I love you," he said.  
  
"Oh, Tom," Loki sighed. "I would surrender my throne and all my riches, that I could spend the rest of my days with you on Earth. You have no idea."  
  
Tom had some idea, because he would move to Asgard at the drop of a hat, as long as he could visit his family every once in a while. "When do you come home?"  
  
"It shouldn't be long. A few more days, at the most. Enough to settle some affairs. Now that Odin knows of your existence, there's no use being stealthy about our relationship. If you'll have me, that is."  
  
Tom had always shied away from long-term commitments, too afraid of getting hurt to put any effort in permanence. But Loki was different. With Loki, Tom knew he would never be hurt, because he knew Loki almost better than he knew himself. "Should I clear out some closet space?"  
  
Loki inhaled. "I can stay?"  
  
"Of course you can stay, you nitwit," Tom said, not even flinching when a invisible spark shocked him for the insult. "I'd love to have you. Here. I'd love to have you here." He coughed, blushing.  
  
"You would, would you?" Loki purred, always up to poke at an innuendo. "I think I could manage that."  
  
"Jesus, Loki," Tom said. "You can't just say things like that when you won't be here for days on end."  
  
"I can, and I just did," Loki said smugly. "And yes, I would have some space for clothes and books. I don't suppose you have a stable?"  
  
"I live in the middle of London," Tom said flatly. "No."  
  
"Ah, shame," Loki said. "Well then yes, that should cover it. Farewell, Tom. I shall send my thoughts to you again tomorrow."  
  
"Bye, Loki," Tom said, smiling faintly. "Make the most of your time in Asgard, okay? I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Loki sent a wave of love through the connection before it vanished, letting go of Tom's wrists in the process. Tom sighed and made his way to the bathroom, where he cleaned himself off and put on some comfortable house clothes. No, Loki would never hurt him… but Tom was in for a hell of a ride, regardless.  
  
And he couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Megan's words, "ghost sex is ridiculously hot." Hopefully I delivered on that ;)
> 
> The last chapter will be out by Saturday, which is when I leave the country for a well-deserved tropical vacation. I'm too excited for words.
> 
> Up next: Tom sees Loki in a new light, Loki lashes out, and Tom gets him to make it snow.


	4. The Blue Fairy - er, God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it: the last chapter. I know I really sprinted through this story, but I'm going out of the country tomorrow and I didn't want to leave it unfinished. Thank you to everyone that commented, kudosed, bookmarked, subscribed, or even just read this story. You guys rock.
> 
> Turns out I totally lied about the snow in the last chapter. I hadn't written it yet and that bit of my preview just didn't make it in. Sorry if that's massively, unforgivably disappointing to any of you :P
> 
> Un-beta'd.

Loki's integration into humanity was difficult at the best of times, nigh impossible at the worst. Tom couldn't fault the god for trying-- no, actually, he definitely could. Loki was a stubborn shit that expected the world to curve to his standard, but Tom was working with him. Loki cared enough about Tom, at least, to make the effort on his behalf, when Tom made it clear that Loki needed to learn something important. Trips around the park, for example, were far more enjoyable when Loki forewent Asgardian clothing.  
  
Other parts of life, however, Loki took to like a fish to water. He adjusted to electricity fairly well, once he learned that it didn't mesh well with his magic, and he loved the television. On any given day, Tom could find him laughing along to Graham Norton or, one one special occasion, studying _Love, Actually_ with near-deadly concentration.  
  
Food, though, was Loki's favorite thing to learn about. From the little Loki talked about it, Tom gleaned that Asgardian food was of the "roast, bread, and fruit” variety, and not much else. Loki had never had foreign cuisine or sweets, both of which he loved intensely.  
  
Which was why, for their three-month, Tom bought Loki a quart of his favorite ice cream. He'd always expected Loki to be a mint chocolate chip sort of guy, but Loki preferred black raspberry cordial.  
  
“I'm back,” Tom called into the flat, dropping his keys onto the small side table in the front hallway. “Loki?”  
  
“Two minutes!” Loki called from the bathroom.  
  
“Right,” Tom said, walking into the kitchen to unpack his groceries. “Laura says hi.” Laura was the cashier at the corner market, and she had a not-so-secret crush on Loki. Tom couldn't blame her.  
  
“Of course she does,” Loki sniffed, walking into the kitchen. His hair was damp and dripping onto his naked back. “Did you remember the--”  
  
“Nope, I completely forgot,” Tom said flatly, passing Loki the mango he'd requested. Loki frowned at him petulantly, and Tom kissed the wrinkle on his brow. “What have you been up to?”  
  
“I'm still working on that transdimensional spell for your wardrobe,” Loki replied sighing. “I know I've got the incantation right, but something in my execution is still off. I think I need to go over the equations again.”  
  
“Loki, we don't need a TARDIS wardrobe,” Tom reminded him with a soft laugh. “Don't overwork yourself.”  
  
“'Need' is a relative term,” Loki dismissed with a wave. “This is a good challenge for me, and-- is that what I think it is??”  
  
Tom unpacked the ice cream, grinning. “Happy three-month anniversary, love.”  
  
Loki took the ice cream, eyes wide. “You got the big one. I need a spoon.”  
  
Tom laughed, handing the god a spoon from the drying rack. “Don't spoil your dinner.” Loki snorted. It was a running joke between them that Loki ate three times more than Tom did. Something about body density, according to Loki. Tom hadn't minded, though he thanked his newfound fame for keeping his wallet full enough to match Loki's stomach. Seriously, Loki could have eaten him out of house and home, had he the desire to do so.  
  
Loki carried the ice cream to the living room and, after finishing with the groceries, Tom joined him. They watched telly while Loki ate, Tom occasionally stealing a bite, and before long the quart was gone.  
  
Loki threw the empty container away. “That was quite satisfying. Thank you, Tom.”  
  
“Mmhm,” Tom said, turning to smile but stopping at what he saw. “Loki... your lips are blue.”  
  
“What?” Loki asked, wiping at his lips nervously. “No, they're not.”  
  
“They are,” Tom whispered, reaching out to touch Loki's skin. Sure enough, the skin around his mouth was a dusky blue and cold to the touch. “I forgot you had a Frost Giant form.”  
  
He carefully avoided saying that Loki _was_ a Frost Giant, because he knew how much Loki hated it. Still, his curiosity was beyond tickled now. “Loki, can you transform at will?”  
  
Loki visibly withdrew into himself. “You'd love that, wouldn't you,” he spat, “to see me turn into that, that monster.”  
  
“What? You're no monster,” Tom said, shaking his head. “Loki, come on. It's me you're talking to. You know I don't see you that way.”  
  
“Then why are you so interested?” Loki returned, rapid-fire. “What desire to you have to see that despicable part of me?”  
  
“I believe the only part of you that's despicable is your own self-hatred,” Tom said, shrugging easily. “I want to see it because it is a part of you, whether you like it or not, and it's not something you should hide from.”  
  
“Everyone has things they hide, don't be stupid.”  
  
“You're right,” Tom said. “I still have the blanket my mum gave to me when I was a baby, and I tend not to tell people about it. But this is different, Loki, this is about you coming to terms with yourself. This is a safe environment and I know you know that. You could never have shifted in Asgard and felt remotely comfortable. So take advantage of this opportunity, okay? For me?”  
  
“You truly want me to do this,” Loki said, more statement than question. “You won't turn me away?”  
  
“Loki, if I was going to turn you away, I would have done it before you turned my _Encyclopaedia Britannia_ into origami,” Tom teased. “No, I promise not to turn you away.”  
  
“Very well.” Loki fidgeted from one foot to the other, looking worried. “Um, close your eyes.” Tom did as he was asked, proud of his god for trusting him so much. “Er, okay. Open them.”  
  
Tom opened his eyes and gasped. “Loki, you're _beautiful_.” And he was. His skin was more than just blue, it was patterned with pales lines and swirls that followed the curves of Loki's face and torso perfectly. His eyes were an unsettling red, but they just made him look more exotic.  
  
Loki stayed silent. Tom rested the flat of his hand on Loki's chest, surprised when it was icy to the touch. Loki naturally ran a few degrees colder than Tom, which was a boon when they slept together (Tom hated overheating at four in the morning) but it tended to make cuddling a little uncomfortable. Loki's current temperature, however, made his natural state feel fevered. “You're freezing.”  
  
“Frost Giant,” Loki pointed out, his lips curling in disgust.  
  
“Hey, stop that now,” Tom scolded. “Come on, I have an idea.” He led Loki into the bathroom and flipped on the light. “Look at yourself. Really.”  
  
“I look like Laufey,” Loki breathed, tense. Tom wrapped his arms around the god, uncaring of the cold.  
  
“Perhaps, if you want to make comparisons. Do you know what I see, though? I see a gorgeous man, too stuck in the past to accept the present. I see someone who could be magnificent, if he let himself. You're not Laufey, Loki. Do you remember what you said to me, when we first met? Something about being grateful that we shared a face, because it was the only thing we had in common? Well, take a bit of your own medicine. You may look like Laufey, but the similarities end there, so be grateful.”  
  
Loki didn't reply but his shoulders relaxed, and Tom counted it as a win. “You think I'm beautiful like this?”  
  
“I may be a little biased,” Tom joked, thrilled to see Loki's lips turn up at the corners, “but yes. Look at you. Your skin is gorgeous. Look at these lines.” He followed one with his finger, curling across Loki's chest and down one side. “You look like artwork.”  
  
Loki spun in Tom's arms, kissing him like he needed the touch more than air. Tom returned the kiss even though it made his lips numb with cold. Loki pulled back after a few seconds, eyes gleaming.  
  
“I don't deserve you.”  
  
“You've got me anyhow,” Tom replied, shivering. “But could you change back? You're very cold.” Loki closed his eyes and his skin melted smoothly back into pale peach. His fingers grew warmer against Tom's arms, causing the mortal to sigh in relief. "Much warmer. Still, I think I'll put the kettle on. Want some?"  
  
Loki rubbed his shoulder, looking blindsided. Tom took pity on him and cupped the god's jaw with his hand. "Do you want to talk about this? We can, if you think it will help."  
  
"I dislike how easily you accept me," Loki confessed. "To me, my Frost Giant form is the darkest of my secrets, the most shameful part of my existence."  
  
"And I'm acting like it's not important, which makes you feel stupid," Tom finished, shame-faced. "I won't lie, it _is_ a big deal, and I'm hiding some of that for your benefit, which is a bum move on my end. In all honesty, Loki, we're two very alien people, and I'm reminded of that every day. I'm not living with a human and, yes, sometimes it's overwhelming."  
  
Loki's face turned ashen, and Tom hated how the truth sounded, when said aloud, and he hated that Loki still lacked the confidence to believe in himself and in this relationship. "Let me finish, Loki. It's overwhelming, sure, but it is so worth it, I wouldn't give it up for a second. Loki, you're amazing. I wish you could see that. Hell, I wish you could just trust me enough to accept my feelings. Every time you remind me that you're literally from another planet, I fall harder in love with you. I wonder why you picked me, and how I'll ever be interesting enough to hold your interest the way you hold mine. If anything, I'm terrified that you'll leave me, not the other way around.  
  
"So yes, seeing your skin turn icy and blue is peculiar, but it's also just another facet of this phenomenal, awe-inspiring man I'm in love with. The part of you I dislike most is the part that's still cautious around me. I've laid myself bare for you because I trust you to understand how important you are to me. I wish you could do the same."  
  
"I wish I could too," Loki whispered, and it absolutely broke Tom's heart.  
  
"Then why don't you?" he demanded, heart racing now that he was finally getting this burden off his chest. "Why do you feel like you can't trust me, Loki? What am I doing wrong?"  
  
"Nothing." Loki played with his fingertips, eyes pointedly cast downwards. "That's why I'm so scared, Tom. All my life, I've been made to feel like something different. Even before I discovered that I was not of Asgard, I felt that I didn't belong. Discovering Odin's lies gave me a reason to be angry, but I'd always known that there was something wrong with me. And it was safe to exist on the outside, it gave me eyes that saw people clearly and a knack for trickery. I was comfortable in my isolation.  
  
"But now I'm here, in Midgard, living with a mortal who refuses to let me linger on the outskirts. You pull me out of my comfort zone, Tom, and it's been a long battle to get me this far without running away." And Loki had run away, a couple of times, but he always came back in the end, despite Tom's fear that he wouldn't. "How does that phrase go? I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop? I'm just waiting for you to turn around and say that you dislike me, or you're doing research for a role."  
  
Tom inhaled sharply. "You can't honestly think that."  
  
"What am I supposed to think?" Loki tugged on his hair. "I can't make sense of it any other way."  
  
"Well, that's because it doesn't make sense," Tom snapped. "Feelings aren't supposed to, Loki. That doesn't mean I'm whoring myself out for an insider peek for the next Marvel movie. Come on, seriously?"  
  
"And I can't help it, Tom," Loki shouted, cracking the mirror behind his head with pent-up magic. "I'm the God of Lies and Mischief, I can't _be_ any other way. Even now, I'm wondering if this is a ruse to break me more inside. I love you so much, Tom, but my history with love is a cautionary tale, and I can't ignore that."  
  
"And you shouldn't," Tom said, deflating. "I can't make you see my honesty, and I can't deny you your suspicion. You have every right to feel the way you do, even if it's founded on nothingness. I can't ask you to give up on that. But, for the record, no, I'm not using you to learn more about my role. I thought I had that character down months ago. But, if it will make you feel better, I won't do any more Marvel movies."  
  
"No, Tom, I don't want you to give up on your life any more than you want me to give up mine," Loki sighed. "I'm being foolish, I know that."  
  
"Yes, you are, but I love you anyway," Tom said with resolve. "Frost Giant, Asgardian, god, Wishmaster, I don't care what you are. You're mine, and that's all that matters." Loki didn't say a word, but the mirror repaired itself, which was enough of an answer of Tom. "Now, tea? I think we both need it."  
  
"Okay," Loki said. "I'll put on a shirt."  
  
He turned to leave, but Tom called him back. "Loki?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Did you ever consider that maybe you felt wrong in Asgard because it wasn't really your home?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Tom flushed, feeling like a idiot. "Maybe you didn't belong there. Maybe you belonged here, instead."  
  
Loki blinked, and his entire face opened into the widest smile Tom had ever seen. "You know, I think you may be right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I know, the ending is cheesy as hell. Blame the holiday spirit ;D
> 
> Before anyone asks, I will most likely not continue writing in the Wishmaster 'Verse. I loved it, but this story arc is done. But don't for a second think I'm through with frostpudding! I like this ship a lot, and I plan to sail it for a while. 
> 
> Feel free to follow [my writing blog](jenetica.tumblr.com) or [my personal](themurderfamilybusiness.tumblr.com).


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